


a gift from the skies

by alexanderlightweight



Series: Words of October 2019 [7]
Category: Shadowhunters (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canonical Character Death, Healing, Injury, Kissing, Light Angst, M/M, Massage, Prince of Hell Magnus Bane, Semi-Sentient Tentacles, Tentacles, Tentacletober, Wing Grooming, Winged Alec Lightwood, Wingfic, Wings, You Can pry semi-sentient tentacles from my cold dead hands okay, they're soft for alec and that's a fact
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-03
Updated: 2019-10-19
Packaged: 2020-11-23 00:51:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,997
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20883464
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alexanderlightweight/pseuds/alexanderlightweight
Summary: The wind roars around him, the storm raging with the turmoil of both nature and magic mingling together in a gorgeous but terrifying spectacle.  Below Alec, the ocean surges with a frothy fury, waves crashing against the cliff he stands upon. He has a choice to make, it’s not one he wants to make and it’s never one he’d thought he’d have to but as with most things, what he’s wanted has never been in anyone's consideration.He’s run out of options and out of time.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [lynne_monstr](https://archiveofourown.org/users/lynne_monstr/gifts).

> this was supposed to be a short little fill for day 2 (under the sea) because I needed to catch up and finish so I could work on todays -yesterday was yesterday and life- but nope. Worldbuilding and backstory insisted they be known.
> 
> Once again a part of [lynne_monstr](https://archiveofourown.org/users/lynne_monstr/pseuds/lynne_monstr)'s very fun event!

The wind roars around him, the storm raging with the turmoil of both nature and magic mingling together in a gorgeous but terrifying spectacle. Below Alec, the ocean surges with a frothy fury, waves crashing against the cliff he stands upon. He has a choice to make, it’s not one he wants to make and it’s never one he’d thought he’d have to but as with most things, what he’s wanted has never been in anyone's consideration.

He’s run out of options and out of time. 

Valentine is at his back with a horde of untrained combatants who follow at his heels like the loyal but witless battle fodder they are. 

Alec already knows that the storm is too strong for him. Especially not with one wing injured, the wound sending sharp pain through him at even the thought of trying to fight the skies. 

So Alec does the one thing he’s never done in his life. 

He falls.

He uses his wings to propel away from the cliff and then he wraps them tightly around himself. It’s a move designed less to shield himself from the coming blow and more to keep them from being snapped and torn away by the wind. 

When he hits the surface there is a moment where he thinks he’s missed, that the storm has taken his body and broken it against the cliff in a macabre monument to his defiance. It’s not until he’s sinking, skin already numb and the entirety of his body weighed down that he realizes he’s in the water. 

-

In the depths, Magnus uses his magic to light up his realm. The currents are unusually cranky today. Even deep below the surface the ocean hums with energy and small flashes of light signify how devastating the storm must be for those who live above. 

Normally, he would lie back and enjoy the show. However, there is a strange, pungent and invasive magic embroiled in the storm and he refuses to be caught unaware. No magic besides his own will ever pass into his territory, not without his knowledge and not without his permission. 

There is a surge of a different magic, his wards are excited by something new and unusual and Magnus surfaces just in time to see a figure plummet from the cliff. It’s like a coin, tossed into the water in exchange for a wish and the ocean greedily accepts it, waves crashing down to accept it like the jaws of a predator claiming a morsel of prey.

It’s curiosity more than sympathy that causes Magnus to swim to it. The figure is half submerged and being battered around viciously to-and-fro, making no move to rescue itself. Almost unconsciously, one of his tentacles reaches out, snatching the body and pulling it deeper into the sea.

The farther down he takes it, the safer it will be. If that is, Magnus decides to spare it’s life.

-

The decision is made before he can ever really consider the reasons  _ not to.  _ His tentacles are curled protectively around a limp figure and while Magnus hasn’t seen a Nephilim this close in centuries, he’s positive that this is one. The wings would give it away even if the devastatingly macabre taste of angelic magic didn’t.

He’s beautiful.

His magic reacts, his power quickly working to give oxygen to the other. A few of his tentacles rally on the absent kiss of a thought, threading together magic and power and when done he reaches out with them, clasps a necklace spun of his magic around the Nephilim’s neck.

The chain of it is blue, the color of his domain and the color of his magical birthright. The stone that hangs from it is no mere pebble plucked from the ocean floor but a tear of sorrow, calcified with time and regret and marked with Magnus’ demonic sigil. 

It will keep him safe enough, for now.

-

The Nephilim sleeps and rests and heals in Magnus’ lair. It’s still far too violent on the surface to take him there and here, Magnus’ powers are at their strongest and will heal him more quickly. He’s yet to wake and Magnus has limited himself to only checking his vitals once an hour. It’s an insult to both himself and his magic to be this worried, but the unfamiliar well of anxiety, that he might be out of practice in healing others boosts his nerves until he’s practically fretting.

It’s an unwelcome realization.

He is Magnus Bane. The Son of Asmodeus and a Prince of Edom and he does  _ not _ fret.

That thought only lasts a moment before he glares at a wayward tentacle that is checking on the Nephilim, it doesn’t even have the decency to pretend to be chastised and instead ignores him. He knows that it’s his own subconscious desires and instincts being acted upon, however he does not enjoy the proof of his own indecisiveness. 

It’s later, when he’s reading a book -his entire library has been preserved with magic to withstand the depths of his oceanic lair- that he finds himself relaxing. The water thrums with magic, a low soothing hum picking up until it resonates around him and it takes him a moment to realize the cause.

Magnus wishes he could pretend that he hasn’t realized that something is amiss, that he could finish the book and be none the wiser but he looks.

The Nephilim is awake. Wide-eyed in disbelieving shock and he’s, oh... Magnus holds in a mortified sigh. He’s being  _ fawned _ over, stupidly pretty Nephilim that he is.

A tentacle is dabbing gently at the cut on his cheek, still more are prissily trying to get to his wings. There is a moment where Magnus fears a fight, that the Nephilim is going to snap out of his daze and violently react to this new scenario. Instead, they lock eyes and very slowly wings are unfurled. It takes effort, it has to since Magnus’ powers can only decrease the pressure of the ocean to a certain degree.

Magnus is unwilling thrilled by the show of trust however and his delight is very evident in the way that his tentacles are now happily grooming ruffled feathers and tenderly smoothing them back into place. Magic coats the tip of each one, protectively making sure the water won’t ruin the wings and healing whatever little scraps and cuts they find, soothing over the deeper wounds when touch makes the Nephilim flinch.

“Where am I?” 

“My lair, deep in the ocean and safe from whatever idiot summoned that ridiculous storm,” Magnus says as he closes the short distance between them, wondering if it’s too forward to reach out and touch. He wants to know what those feathers feel like under his fingers, not just under the sensitive, magical touch of his tentacles. 

It’s been a very long time since he’s touched anyone other than a friend with either of his appendages. “I’m Magnus,” he offers, “Magnus Bane if you prefer a more formal introduction.” 

The Nephilim’s eyes widen even more, “Alec.” He says and then pauses, “there are rumors of you. The son of a Prince of Hell who fought a different Prince and won.”

“Ah yes, dear old dead uncle Leviathan.” Magnus says and if his tone holds some degree of bitterness, it’s well deserved. “Conquering a Prince of Hell is all very well,” he tells Alec, “however everything comes with a price and well,” a tentacle comes up and waves happily at Alec who looks more than a little bewildered. “C’est la vie, c’est la guerre I suppose.” 

“Right.” Alec looks a little bewildered and still a bit dazed and while Magnus can hardly blame him, he’d rather they not focus on the more complicated bits of his life.

“Can I offer you a drink?” He asks instead and one of his own tentacles, the little traitor, jabs him hard in the kidney. 

“We’re under water.” Alec says in confusion and the same treacherous tentacle reaches around Magnus to pet Alec’s shoulder in commiseration. Magnus ignores the betrayal as Alec blinks down at the tentacle and then continues bewilderedly, “the last thing I remember is jumping off a cliff and now I'm alive but probably thousands of feet under the sea and you’re offering me a drink?”

“Right, we should probably make sure you don’t have a concussion before I make you up a martini. Alcohol and head wounds rarely make a good mix.” Magnus glides closer still and he knows he looks good, but there is something to be said for enjoying the confused but obvious appreciation in Alec’s eyes as they watch him. “May I?” He asks and extends a hand, blue fire curling from his palm and he knows the gorgeous spectacle he makes.

There’s no need for a glamour in his domain. His hair is streaked with white and his eyes amber hued, his tentacles black with mottled gold writhing about him like they have a mind of their own, waiting for Alec’s decision. 

Alec nods his head and says a soft, “yes” and that’s all the permission Magnus needs to gently curl his fingers around Alec’s jaw, tilting his head just slightly as his magic goes to work. Healing of this kind is an intimate affair and Magnus had refrained from doing more than surface remedies without consent. 

When he’s sure that there is nothing left to heal beyond the most superficial of wounds, he calls his magic gently back to him but lets his hand linger for a moment, thumb unconsciously brushing over a cheekbone. Alec hasn’t looked away from him once, holding his gaze with an intensity that makes Magnus feel as moldable as a jellyfish. He’s pretty sure that at this point Alec could ask him for anything and he would give it without argument, well- anything  _ besides _ returning Alec to the surface. He would definitely argue with that. After all, who knew if the danger that Alec had very obviously fled from was still there. Never-mind the fact that communication between the surface world and Magnus’ domain could be very shoddy. Fire messages were all very well and good until you lived in the water and then they got sloppy. 

Better to let the danger pass and get to know Alec better, see how willing a Nephilim would be to the prospect of dating a Royal Hellion and establish a decent form of communication. That could all wait however, he had a drink to make, a gorgeous man to woo and a hoard of besotted tentacles to keep in check.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> uhm this is technically the fill for prompt 4: tentacles save the day!  
but it turned into a continuation instead of it's own story. Oops.

Alec stares bleakly at the scene before him. Jace is dead, or close to it and all he can hear above the roaring in his ears is Clary screaming. 

He chokes back the blood that fills his mouth, swallows it down because that takes less effort than spitting it out and he cringes at the taste. There is only one possible way for them to win and he doesn’t even know if it’ll work. It’s his job as a leader, to protect those he has a responsibility to, even if he doesn’t survive the execution of his plan.

It’s his only hope and yet the thought fills him with dread.

Having made a choice he staggers closer to the fight. Valentine has Clary by her throat now, he can just make out her garbled threats and it would be so much easier, to let him finish her off. Sacrificing her would give him more time that could save others, but he couldn't save his parabatai and he feels so very numb. Alec wishes he could have done something to save his brother but he also knows that if anyone is to survive this fight, his brother would want it to be Clary.

“Valentine!” He calls and he’s relieved at how steady his voice sounds. “Is this what you’re looking for?” Alec holds up the cup with the spiteful glee of being the only person who knows it’s yet another replica. A good replica but he knows that neither Valentine or even Clary will know that. After all, possession of the cup is what had Valentine hunting him, it’s why Alec leapt from the cliff rather than risk capture and now, well who better than Valentine to understand the bond of a parabatai. As distorted as a man like Valentine is, he can still understand what he considers to be priorities and right now, he thinks he’s found Alec’s.

Alec doesn’t demand Clary’s release. It’s a waste of breath, they both know that’s what he wants and finally, after a moment where he fears that Valentine can somehow hear the rattle of his chest as he breathes, she’s tossed aside. 

Clary cries out and then the noise bites off. He risks chancing a glance to her and she looks venomous, a fierce and vicious baby predator whose finally tasted blood for the first time. Her pupils are so blown that she looks possessed, her eyes dark and steady as they focus on Valentine and he can tell she’s looking for a weakness.

He spares one more precious moment to catch her gaze and she pauses, her damaged wings flutter as she gathers strength and he knows that she’ll try to find a weapon. She’ll use whatever time he buys and she’ll do what needs to be done to end this here. 

“I should have known,” Valentine says as he spreads his wings out in a demand to be noticed, to be bowed to. “You were the weak link in your bond weren’t you? A little toy pulled around by your master and even now, you’re going to beg me for his body to bury in your Institute. To release his soul to the angels.”

Alec doesn’t answer, just waits and when Valentine nears he backs away, walking into the lake.

“You think that you can summon an angel just because you have the cup, boy? You think an angel would listen to you?” Valentine demands, using his wings to glide forward until he’s on the banks, the tide lapping at his boots.

In Alec’s hand, the cup twists and crumples as the glamour fades away and all he’s left holding is a bloody pendant. Valentine’s face twists almost too quickly through shock and fear and then settles on rage. 

“Where is it!” He demands and Alec grins, lets the necklace drop. It sinks, a series of ripples heralding it’s descent and he knows he’s done all he can.

“The cup is gone and I have no need of angels,” Alec tells him as he bares his bloodied teeth, he’s no longer afraid of falling. 

Valentine has nothing to say to that but his rage doesn’t lessen. Behind him, Clary is pressing down on Jace’s body. If his parabatai is alive, Alec doesn’t know, he’s too numb to feel his own pain let alone Jace’s. Hopefully by now, his messages have reached the appropriate people and teams of Shadowhunters and Downworlders alike are banding together to hunt down Valentine and his lackeys. 

“All that to what, gain a few extra moments?” Valentine asks, “you’re dead and you know it Lightwood. You’re pathetic!”

Alec doesn’t get the chance to respond because he buckles, falls to his knees with nothing but water to catch him. He’s soaked and cold and miserable and he’s probably about to die but it’s worth it. It was worth it just for the look of rage on Valentine’s face when he realized that once again, Alec has kept the cup from him.

Around him the water moves, he can feel it sloshing against him as he’s struggling back to his feet. Alec blinks sluggishly and looks around. All around him Lake Lynn is shaking, waves beginning to form and the water slapping at the shore only to be forcibly and almost angrily pulled back.

If a storm is coming, it’ll take him with it and that thought makes him smile. One of his stinging hands is bloody and torn and he brings it from the water to wipe at his mouth. Water catches on his cut lip he licks at it without thinking before he hesitates, not for fear of the hallucinogens in the water but because he can taste salt. 

Something catches him, strong and sinewy as it coils around him and he recognizes the touch instantly. He knows that it’s one of Magnus’ tentacles, wrapped around his torso protectively. 

It settles there for a heartbeat and then another joins it. A few more pass him by, touching him as if in reassurance before stretching out and looming protectively before him.

On the shore Valentine curses, backpedaling rapidly. Clary looks as if she doesn’t know whether to take the chance to try and kill Valentine or try to rescue Alec. Alec shakes his head, hoping she gets the hint. He doesn’t need her concern or her worry, he’s safe now.

As if hearing his thoughts, a tentacle loops loosely around his neck. When he swallows he can feel it there, pulsing with magic until the raw skin of his throat is healed and the burning of his pierced lung subsides. The tip of a tentacle prods first at his chin and then taps at his mouth, gliding over the torn skin until it is whole and new and Alec knows that if he looks at his reflection, his skin would be unscarred.

“You dropped this.” A voice behind him says and he lets himself go boneless, knows that he’s already caught. The tentacles keep him steady but a hand presses against the small of his back in comfort. He tries to turn, to look behind him but can’t. “Steady Alexander, close your eyes. I’m here, you know I’m here. You don’t need to see me just yet, angel.”

“I always want to see you,” Alec can’t help but say. There is a low chuckle and the ghost of a breath over the shell of his ear.. 

“As I you. You dropped this you know.” 

The necklace is placed back around his neck and Alec shudders at the rightness of feeling it there, Magnus’ magic cool and familiar against his skin.

“It was the only way I knew to call you,” he admits, “I didn’t know what else to do or even if it would work.”

“You did perfect, darling. I have you now.”

-

Magnus is tending to his apothecary when he feels the call. At first, he thinks that Alexander has been careless, has perhaps dropped their necklace in a bath or shower. A moment later when he tastes and recognizes the disgusting, _tainted_ water of Lake Lynn at the back of his throat, he thinks that he’s lost him. 

He feels a profound sense of fear that his Shadowhunter might have thrown away their only way of communication. The idea that Alec might be lost to him is striking in it's tragedy and his very magic rebels at the thought, then he tastes the blood. 

_Alexander's blood_.

When Magnus had first found Alec, the Nephilim had been battered, bleeding from tattered wings and only held together by his determination not to be caught by Valentine.

He knows now what Alec feels like. The unique angelic signature that is completely Alexander, the magic in his blood and the power of the ocean that has been stamped on his soul after so many days in Magnus’ domain and so much time cradled by Magnus’ ardor. 

His tentacles form a portal before his mind finishes connecting the dots. Several of them shoot forward as he follows more sedately. Now that he knows his goal, there is no need to rush. Lake Lynn is powerful but he is more so and the water changes for him as his powers move, dancing to his will and calling like to like.

His tentacles shoot ahead, overeager and almost desperate and he heaves a silent sigh of relief when they find Alec. Once Alec is safely cocooned, then does Magnus offer his attention to his lover's injuries. **  
**

Alec is weaker than even the first time they met, that much he knows and the realization fills him with rage. The mortal facade he wears is ripped away as his tentacles multiply and his glamour drops. 

He is the son of Asmodeus, ruler and conqueror of Leviathan and not even the powers of heaven can frighten him.

If an angel attempted to smite him, he would pluck them from the sky, drag them to the bottom of his realm and tear the wings from them as decorations for the endless chasms of his home. 

Valentine curses him from the safety of land and Magnus lets his lips curl into a gleeful smile as he moves closer to the shore. Alec is safe for now and Magnus considers himself a magnanimous being. As he is already here and Valentine is so temptingly within his reach, it would practically be poor taste _not_ to kill him. Though he may be somewhat isolated from them, parts of the Downworld are still under his protection and ending Valentine's genocide is well within his purview. 

Magnus’ magic and tentacles are greedy and gleeful as he reaches out. There is a bloodlust rising in him and his tentacles expand, growing more durable and the skin hardening into thousands of tiny curved spikes that are as sharp as sickle scythes. 

The wings of a Nephilim are little more than an angelic facade when compared to Magnus’ strength and he takes great pleasure in the feel of those hallowed, hollow bones cracking under his tentacles. 

The dichotomy of his actions and power is not lost on him. That even as he renders and reaps what Valentine is most proud of, Alexander is resting, shielded and safe in his hold.

The tentacles keeping Alec secure bristle at the very idea. The mere thought of hurting Alexander is an anathema and only leads to danger, not because Magnus would ever harm him, but because Valentine has. 

_ Oh but it sounds so lovely- to hear Valentine’s screams as Magnus repays pain for pain. _

When he’s done, when Valentine’s back is a mass of tattered skin and congealing blood that paints the shores of Lynn a dark and vibrant red, only then does Magnus calm his wrath. He has killed Valentine’s spirit and his will with his actions and he will let the man’s spawn end her father’s physical vessel. 

Even if she fails -_ and by the look in her eyes she won’t- _the venom that Magnus injected in Valentine will do the job. 

So intent on her vengeance, on destroying the legacy of her lineage that the Shadowhunter doesn’t even keep a wary eye on him. Magnus watches with an almost fond delight as she desecrates her father’s body with bloody, vicious intent and as she does, Magnus leaves. He has more important things to do than linger on the shore of an angelic lake. 

-

Alec groans, his wings protesting as he tries to move and it is with a sleepy sigh that he finally rolls over. There is something around his waist and while he thinks he should wake up, gather his wits and check his surroundings, he feels safe.

There’s a heaviness about him, a luxury of comfort he’s not normally afforded. Someone is grooming his wings, being ever so gentle and delicate and even going so far as to massage his back. 

That’s almost impossible to do and he melts from the contact. His wings are large and heavy and beyond the fact that he doesn’t like letting people touch his them, the people he does allow close don’t have the patience or the delicacy for it. 

This feels like pure bliss and when the motions stop, his wings stretch out in protest as a wordless complaint slips out.

“Alright then, it seems you were being useful.” A voice says, but the words don’t seem to be directed at him and moments later that lovely, distracting pressure is back. 

-

Magnus watches, idly creating a drink and sipping on it as his tentacles stop trying to be sneaky and move delightedly.

He’d been distracted and in his relief of safely retrieving Alexander and his anger that Alexander had been in danger, he forgot to keep certain parts of himself in check.

Once sure that he’s left no trace behind and no path to follow, contented himself that Valentine is nothing more than a decorative smear on the shores of Lake Lynn -h_ e did not want that idiot’s corpse tainting any of his domain _\- he goes to check on Alexander. His sky-fallen beloved who is supposed to be resting but instead is currently being pestered by tentacles.

Magnus hisses out a reprimand, tugging on the many tentacles supposedly under his command. They listen but the moment Alec lets out a sleepy murmur of discontent, they rally in protest. 

They wait for permission, but only just and in an instant they are back at it, grooming and preening Alec’s feathers and massaging his muscles in a way that makes Magnus almost jealous.

Technically, he is the one attending to Alec but he feels more sidelined than ever. With the wards up and his business tended to, he gently floats to Alec. The magically restored pendant looks as lovely as ever on him, the blue of Magnus’ magic a stark contrast to his runes and skin. 

“Alexander?” He asks and there’s no response, not by protest or by affirmation. It’s not till he reaches out and runs gentle fingertips over Alec’s cheek that he gets a response. Alec’s nose scrunches up and his lashes -_ longer than Magnus remembers them _\- flutter soft kisses against his fingertips. 

Magnus picks Alec up into his arms, laughing at his tentacles as some helpfully attend to Alec's wings and then graciously letting still more of them open the portal. As he walks through, his body shifts. Legs form and his tentacles don’t retract so much as they shift so that they now originate from his back, though they’re just as numerous as ever. 

A pair of soft, silken pants and the comfort of a magically expanded bed and Magnus has Alec properly in his lap, or as properly as a pair can be when one has tentacles and the other wings. It’s a comfort to feel him like this, the weight of him a solid warmth on Magnus’ legs but his tentacles still able to tend Alec’s wings.

“Hush love,” he murmurs when Alec seems close to waking, “sleep still. The world can wait a little longer for you to rise.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wrote the chapter in two parts and had to go back and edit and I'm a little frustrated with it because I accidentally wrote the first part in completely in the wrong tenses. I normally write in past tense but I changed it up for the first chapter and then accidentally decided to continue it. So, please let me know if something needs editing or I missed any tags. I wanted to post this before I made any more excuses not to. Also yes there may probably be a third chapter.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is for tentacle prompt: tentacle massage

Magnus watches the storm warily, not in the mood to once again rescue his wayward lover. The weather is growing harsh too quickly for comfort and while he could open a portal, the last time he did that he nearly had uninvited guests. 

Though he has never truly met them Magnus has found that Alexander truly has the most irksome of siblings and it’s been on more than one occasion that they’ve delayed his arrival. With such depressing thoughts on his mind, Magnus reaches for his neck and the talisman that lays there, his latest gift from Alexander. A small momentum of an omamori, carefully waterproofed to survive his domain and while unnecessary, it is a gift that makes Magnus feeling warm and loved. 

There’s a crash, the splash of something heavy hitting in the water and Magnus is pulled from his thoughts by droplets against his face. A tentacle idly wipes them away and he watches avidly until he spots Alec’s familiar head of dark hair. It’s wet and clings to his brow when he surfaces, but he’s laughing too, delight in the lines of his face and his wings flap awkwardly as he tries to tread water. 

Magnus reaches for him without a thought, simply an unconscious desire to be near, to hold him close. His tentacles latch onto Alec and pull him faster than he can swim, it’s nearly a habit now and Alec’s smile only widens as he comes closer. 

“I missed you,” he says against Magnus’ lips and he seems uncaring that their kisses taste of brine. 

“I missed you too,” Magnus promises and pulls him closer still, stealing his breath as he seals their mouths together and pulls Alec below. 

Magic lights the world that mundanes can only dream of and Alec adjusts as quickly as always, his body now used to the magic that keeps him safe. There is no real need for Magnus to kiss him now, only a desire to. 

Traveling with Alec takes more time as his wings are as cumbersome as they are pretty to look at and Magnus is more thankful than ever for his tentacles and their prowess. They know just how to be helpful, parting the kelp in their way and nudging Alec along when he gets caught by a current.

Set apart from the surface land Magnus’ kingdom is vast but even in the depths of the sea there are pockets, little dimensions he can take Alec, that are his and safe where his angel can let his wings dry and breathe without magic. It’s there that Magnus takes him now, a lair fit for royalty and when they surface Alec’s eyes widen in appreciation and curiosity. It’s ignored the moment Magnus draws close however, Alec too eager for more kisses and his hands wander, stroking over Magnus’ skin and brushing against his tentacles as his own transformation takes place. 

“Impatient,” Magnus teases and is nearly tackled to the ground with the force of Alec’s ardor.

“How could I wait another minute when I’m finally with you again,” Alec asks and it’s a good question. A brilliant one that needs no answer other than Magnus matching desire. 

-

Magnus doesn’t know or care how much time has passed when he wakes up. Beside him Alec is sleeping still, loose-limbed and free in sleep, without the weight of responsibility on him. It’s a beautiful look and one that Magnus hopes he bears more in the waking world, now that the fight with Valentine has ended. 

Magnus’ own role in the battle is already one of legends, a sea monster of old repaying past grievances and dolling out fated punishments. Alec’s part is merely that he escaped some tragic death as a snack -_ which rude, Magnus may be old and isolated but he does try to follow mundane culture and Alec is most definitely still a snack _\- which gives him little credit.

Alec’s parabatai survived, unfortunate soul that he is and from what he’s heard, the Morgernstern daughter seems to be doing better after utilizing all her pent up rage. 

Murder does do wonders for stress though, for Alec’s sake alone, Magnus hopes she doesn’t make it too much of a habit. The last thing he needs is less time with his lover because he’s off trying to coral another shadowhunter with a taste for the macabre.

Meanwhile, Alec continues to slumber and here in safety, Magnus presses tentacles gently against his skin and kneads gently at his tender muscles. His love is always overworking himself, desperate to get everything done just so that he can steal time for a moment like this one. Magnus worries for his health but doesn’t begrudge Alec his rest, he’d rather have Alec here in his arms, than sleeping elsewhere. 

-

“Do you want to see them?” Alec asks and it seems like such an idle question but Magnus’ attention is instantly caught.

“I thought you said they were a myth.” As he speaks his tentacles loom, betraying his interest and Alec laughs even as several poke and prod at his wings. 

“I asked if you thought they were a myth.” Alec corrects fondly as he reaches out to pet a tentacle and he only smiles when it curls possessively around his wrist, “and you said no, so I assumed you knew the truth.” 

Magnus shrugs, accepting that answer but he watches Alec closely, relieved to see no signs of discomfort. “And you’re going to show me?”

“Only if you’re interested.”

Magnus scoffs, one of his tentacles pinching Alec’s side in protest for the tease and Alec smirks, smug as he shakes his head. He knows that Magnus is interested and at this point he’s just being a tease. 

It’s something Magnus has never seen up close, in fact he’s only heard of the ability, a secret passed discretely between the most prestigious of nephilim families and a secret weapon of war. 

To see it now _ -as Alec unfurls his wings and they shiver, glimmering with light as soft down changes to hard adamas _\- is to understand why at one time, the nephilim were so greatly feared.

Alec looks otherworldly like this, as much as a creature of the _ other _ as Magnus does himself. His wings are brushed titanium, tipped with the fading coals of runes and he’s sure they’re as sharp as an angelic blade. 

They glow softly, almost warningly but oh so beautiful. He imagines they were meant to be that way, like an anglerfish. Enticing others close enough to touch and then striking down their prey. 

Alec’s hazel eyes are intersected with blue, a shimmering pattern of crisscrossed lines that glow and Magnus wonders just what he’s seeing as he looks around Magnus’ realm. He knows the cause of the blue, an angelic ability normally created via a rune to divine magic and Magnus watches with intent, delighting in seeing Alec so powerful. It’s not that he doubts his lover’s prowess but too often has he seen Alec injured and beaten down or struggling against a foe. To see him like this gives him confidence that when Alexander returns to the surface world, he will have the ability to fight and keep himself safe, until he can either once again return to Magnus or call him to his side. 

Gently, ever so delicately, one of his tentacles extends from where he’d pulled them back. It taps wonderingly against the adamas feathers of Alec’s wings and a light chime sounds out. As if ensnared by a siren song, the rest of his tentacles follow and soon it sounds like small bells are singing out a joyous exaltation and Magnus wonders at how such blasphemy would be received by the angels. 

A prince of hell plucking such a beautiful song from the offspring of angel is no doubt more than a little sacrilegious. 

Alec seems both amused and like he enjoys the attention, carefully stretching his wings and letting Magnus play with them as if they were merely some shiny trinket. 

“They’re sharp,” he says but it’s a loving warning, “please be careful.”

“As you’ve no doubt learned,” and Magnus allows himself a small leer that earns a delighted laugh and a small blush from Alec. “I pride myself and my tentacles on our precision.”

“Well, that’s true enough.” Alec laughs, “however I think that the last time you showed me how good your accuracy was, there was very little danger involved.”

“Darling, the risk of your disappointment is always absolutely terrifying.” 

“Well, consider me very satisfied.” Alec promises and turns to press a kiss to the tentacle that brushes against the corner of his mouth. “Are you sated? Can I put them away or will that ruin your fun?”

Magnus grins, delighted by Alec’s willingness for verbal banter and wit, “I’ll mourn but recover, so long as you join me back in bed.”

His tentacles retreat, hovering behind him as Alec furls his wings and then strikes out with them. It’s a stunning vision, the adamas of his wings flash bright and Magnus can make out runes, though at the moment they are untranslatable, then they dim and in their place are Alec’s normal feathers. No less beautiful or otherworldly, but much less dangerous and his tentacles strike with much less delicacy. They nestle against the soft plumage and stroke down the vane to the soft down, it makes Alec laugh and the blue lines fade from his eyes to leave behind bright hazel that are watching Magnus with a dangerous adoration.

“I think they prefer them like this,” Alec says and it’s not a question but Magnus treats it as one, walking close enough to press tiny kisses to ALec’s jaw in distraction. 

“We love you as you are, whatever way that is.” He promises and to bare his heart is no small feat, “however I do think we prefer being able to touch you without fear of injury.” 

-

Preening Alexander’s wings should be complex work but Magnus’ tentacles seem to be almost made for it, proficiently straightening each and every feather and smoothing them over. Alec rolls over, chin propped on Magnus thigh and Magnus swallows as he looks up at him through his lashes, he delights in it, his eyes adoring as he watches Magnus watch him and it’s a cycle of easy pleasure.

It’s when he gets to the base, past the plumage and down that Alec startles. He makes a soft inquisitive noise and when Magnus presses firmer, he goes boneless. His weight is already a conundrum, the hollow but incredibly strong bones of a nephilim combined with his solidity are a strange dichotomy that Magnus has never been able to make sense of. On one hand, Alec is a gorgeous man made of muscle who knows how to use his mass and on the other, he’s incredibly light easy to move.

Beneath his touch Alec’s muscles are corded and tense but they relax under the constant pressure and perfected technique of his tentacles. It’s a mix of pleasure and pain to work the stress from Alec’s body, pushing down until he grunts with discomfort and ignoring the wounded noise in search of bringing him ease. It takes a long time and at one point, Alec’s hand has found Magnus’ calf, his head still pillowed by Magnus’ thigh and his fingers squeeze tightly, nails biting into the skin with small crescent kisses. 

Magnus’ soothes as best he can, wondering just how long Alec’s let himself go to get to this point. His fingers pet Alec’s hair and he squeezes his nape encouragingly when it seems nearly too much. At one point Alec looks at him beseechingly, tears pooled on his lashes and Magnus is struck by how gorgeous he looks like that. 

One of his tentacles collects them, tenderly harvesting each tear and securing it away. Tears can be a powerful ingredient but more than just that, the tears from the lover of the ruler of the sea, those are precious gift indeed.

Finally Alec heaves a sigh of relief and Magnus’ tentacles ease in their quest, they’re gentle now as they rub his back and fetch a balm to soothe him. 

“Feel better?” Magnus asks just because he can and Alec nips his thigh, causing Magnus to jump slightly and his tentacles to startle. “Low blow,” he murmurs and Alec laughs tiredly. 

“Everything hurts,” he finally says, “but a _ good _ hurt. I didn’t even realize how much tension I was carrying until now, that’s just. You’re really magical,” he says and it’s so sincere and sweet that Magnus wants to preen.

“Thank you darling,” is what he says instead. “Think you’re up for a tour?” 

He expects the huff that gets him and the roll of the eyes, what he’s not expecting is Alec to shake his head and get up, wincing a little but rolling his muscles to finish working out the last of the kinks.

“I was going to tell you,” Alec says once he’s straddled Magnus lap and looped his arms around his neck. “That I have today off. _ All of it. _ I’m not due back to the Institute until tomorrow’s night patrol.”

“However did you manage that?” Magnus asks, genuinely curious and also with the need to know if Alec can make this miracle happen again. 

“I claimed personal time and with everything that’s happened no one is going to question it. Jace is too busy with Clary to actually notice and Izzy is swept up in both Clary _ and _ Simon’s drama. If they do notice that I’m gone, they’d probably believe me if I said I just holed up in my room with a book.”

“Their loss is my gain,” Magnus tells him and then loses his breath when Alec shuffles all of his weight onto him. 

“This,” Magnus admits as they try to find a way to lie together, “is a bit more complicated than I thought it would be.” 

Alec grumbles in agreement and lurches, nearly falling from the bed as he tries to readjust his wings and Magnus’ tentacles react, both stabilizing him and also keeping him from smacking Magnus’ in the face. 

“As magnificent as your wings are, they are not conducive to spooning,” Magnus finally admits and it feels like defeats. Warily he eyes the appendages, rather relieved that unlike his own tentacles, they lack any form of magic or sentience. 

They end up face to face, Alec’s cheek pillowed on his arm and his wings tucked tight around him as Magnus settles next to him. 

Magnus tentacles curl about him as much as possible and when finished, Alec untucks one wing and very carefully drapes it over them both. It’s soft and warm and it smells like petrichor and lightning. 

“Love you,” Alec whispers and it’s been said before but it feels even more intimate, here and now as they are. All of them laid out and intertwined together and Magnus blinks, golden eyes watching the love of his life tenderly.

“I love you too,” he says and he does, fully and completely and more wholly than he thought he’d ever love. With Alexander, he feels complete. Two parts of the world uniquely connected, the strangest but most intimate and beautiful of horizons. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've had this idea for a while and was happy to be able to incorporate it!! I got it from Izzy's hairsticks and the idea that adamas can transform. So, feathers can become sharp tipped or even coated, like armor. Also they have permanent imbedded runes, to account for strength and etc. 
> 
> yes I completely built this headcanon because I have a scene where Alec cuts someone's head off with his wings during battle.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm on tumblr as [alexanderlightweight](https://alexanderlightweight.tumblr.com)


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